


Mellocream

by MajesticalJeff



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Autumn, Candy, Candy Bars, Chesapeake Ripper, Coffee, Crack-ish, Crushes, Dates, Dogs, Dress-up, Embarrassment, Friends to Lovers, Halloween, Halloween AU, Halloween Candy, Halloween loving Will, Hannibal in jeans, Hannibal's house, Kissing, Lollipops, M/M, Pining, Pumpkin Spice, Sarcasm, Shipping, Unbeta'd, Whiskey - Freeform, Yes you read that right, candy corn, competitions, competitive candy giving, kitten ears, mellocream pumpkins, psychiatry, puns, sneaky Beverly, trick-or-treating, witch hats, you also read that right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 06:38:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5118824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajesticalJeff/pseuds/MajesticalJeff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People would expect someone such as Will Graham – cankerous, surly, sarcastic, no-fun-allowed Will Graham – to be just another one of these distasteful agents and scientists, pursing his lips and groaning at the mere mention. But like many things that Will didn’t need to be estranged even more for, he held the truth to his chest.<br/>Will Graham loved Halloween.</p><p>---<br/>Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter are two very different people with two very different opinions of Halloween. When Hannibal decides some adaption wouldn't do him any bad, he decides to ask Will, an avid halloween fann for his assistance on the matter. Would could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mellocream

**Author's Note:**

> I am such trash. I am literally a trashcan for halloween. UNBETA'D.

 

The month of October is a hailstorm for the government. As ironic as it was, the season was a peak for crimes both petty and grand, inclining slowly towards the end of the month. It was Halloween that inspired it naturally, Devil’s night in some cases as well, as lame as that was, but yet almost like tradition now that the police would be on doorsteps and the firemen putting out small arsons.

It was agreeably easier for those lower forms of law enforcement because, well, they faced lower forms of crime, and if you were to ask anyone who walked the glowing, near pristine halls of the FBI headquarters, all would agree with the notion heavily, with tired eyes and tightened lips.

Many killers seemed to see Halloween as symbolistic, especially those trying to beg power from imagined higher deities, or were simply sadistic and perverse, thinking it fun to hang decaying skulls like lanterns from trees.

So more often than not, the opinion of Halloween seemed much shared, a curl of the lip and the narrowing of the eyes for so much as mentioning the holiday. Sure, they did a party as they did for most holidays not limited by religion, the many minions of the government using it as a way to dress up with their partner and drink with their coworkers from different divisions.

People would expect someone such as _Will Graham_ – cankerous, surly, sarcastic, no-fun-allowed Will Graham – to be just another one of these distasteful agents and scientists, pursing his lips and groaning at the mere mention. But like many things that Will didn’t need to be estranged even more for, he held the truth to his chest.

Will Graham _loved_ Halloween.

Perhaps it was because no matter where his home was as a child, he could don a mask and go as another unmentioned child, no longer the silent little boy who stared too much, but just any normal kid who got a handful of snickers tossed into their fraying pumpkin canvas bag. He would remember sitting at the table with his father under a dimly glowing light, sorting through the different types, laughing as his dad humorously demanded half the coffee crisps for himself. It’d been a holiday that’d never let him down.

He could understand, of course, why his fellows hated it so much – people dressing up as things they weren’t, wielding fake knives and murderers masks, pretending to be the things that haunted the dreams of so many who walked these halls. In fact, there were certain cases where Halloween had even affected Will badly, making him jump or panic at the sight of a mask that looked much to like a victim he’d seen so many times over.

Yet he refused to give off this one _last_ tidbit. After having so much happiness taken from him, he refused to let this one be pulled away by his work as well. Will loved the cheesy movies, the candies, the kids in their costumes. He would fondly recall his days as a police officer, walking the streets of New Orleans and watching the festivities and smiling broadly as he did.

But that was long ago, and now his Halloweens were spent like most days – ending with a few fingers of whiskey and an unrestful sleep. He always made an exception for Halloween candy though, a guilty pleasure he indulged whenever the boxes came onto the shelves.

Beverly Katz had found her way into his classroom one rainy afternoon a week before the event, perching on the desk beside his computer with coffee in hand and the preparations of a long, fulfilling discussion written clearly on her face.

“So are you going to the Halloween party this year?” She’d asked with a cocked head and a small curl of lips. Will hadn’t needed to look up from his document to tell exactly what her expression would be. She asked this question every year about every party, and the answer was always the same.

“No. You know how I feel about parties.”

“Oh c’mon,” She said wryly, batting at his shoulder with the back of her hand, her sheet of sleek, dark hair moving swiftly with her as she turned her head. “I’m sure you’d at least enjoy the free booz. It’s not even that bad – Jimmy and Brian will flirt, Anna from front desk will get sloppy drunk, somebody will kiss somebody they shouldn’t, there’ll be a costume fail, a few couples, and then everyone will go home alone. You’d love it.”

Will gave her a fantastically droll look that made her grin sheepishly as he finally leaned back in his chair, listening to the joins creak yet still not moving his gaze to her searching eyes. “I’m not going, Beverly.”

She huffed and shook her head. “You know, maybe that’s why you’re so wound up.” She said, nudging the toe of her boot into his arm which was propped upon his armrest. “You never have any fun.”

“I have fun.” Will responded reproachfully with a deep frown, his brows furrowed as he finally turned away from his work to stare up at her.

“Do you?” She asked with raised brows and a grin, but her question was much more sincere and meaningful then what her expression implied. She wanted him to think on it, like she wanted him to think on many things.

Will sighed, leaning his head back onto his chair to look up at her. She watched him just as equally, head turned so her ear was pressed into her shoulder and her slim eyes were narrowing meaningfully.

“Fine,” Will huffed. “I’ll prove to you I can have fun. But I’m _not_ going to that party. I’ve seen enough pictures on Facebook.”

She blinked. “You use your Facebook?”

“Sometimes.” He grumbled, not wanting to admit that _maybe_ he enjoyed that candy crush referral she sent him a few months ago, a little _too m_ uch.

Either way, Beverly had grinned triumphantly and moved on to other topics, leaving Will’s subconscious to stew. He’d had no idea why he allowed himself to – yet again – get bullied into some kind of ridiculous challenge by Beverly Katz.

It’d bugged him the whole night after that, and the day after, making his sleep puckish and all his thoughts distracted to the point it was annoying him nonstop. Will had fun – didn’t he? He was sure he did.

These rather irritating ponderings followed him right up to the doorstep of Dr. Hannibal Lecter, his very current psychiatrist. Will had nestled into the boxy leather seat across from Hannibal, not paying much mind to the dark, intimidating atmosphere seeing as his eyes would very well be flickering about the place soon in avoidance of Hannibal’s maroon gaze.

“You seem distracted today, Will.” Hannibal had mused, head cocked much like Beverly’s had been, and Will’s gaze flicked over to take in the man, Hannibal’s posture, as always, was casual; the positioning of someone comfortable in their own skin, limber limbs curled and placed neatly together while still barely creasing his suit.

“Something a coworker said, nothing to worry about.” Will said with a sigh. Unlike Hannibal, his posture was slumped and careless, the bodying of someone who didn’t want to be where he was right then, wanting instead to sink deep into the soft leather he sat upon. Will knew as he spoke that the words ‘nothing to worry about’ would always peak the psychiatrist’s interest, his actions causing regret and dejection to curl in his stomach.

“Evidently not, seeing as it has been pulling away at your mind since the beginning of our session.” Hannibal murmured in reply, his voice all but reverberating around the room despite how low and smooth is tone was. Projection, Will would admit, was what Hannibal could be very good at at times, although right now Will wanted nothing more than to sigh loudly. He knew the doctor was only doing his job, but the damn man could be downright pesky at times.

Will instead heaved a heavy breath of air. “It was a forensic scientist- Katz?” when Hannibal nodded in acknowledgment to the name, Will continued, “Well, she mentioned that I don’t have fun. I told her I did, and she challenged me to prove it. And for some reason, it’s bothering the hell out of me.”

“And I know what you’re going to ask next.” Will said in the same monotone, nearly exhausted tone he’d used before as his eyes snapped up to Hannibal pointedly, just in time to see the other man open his mouth to say something. “And no, I don’t actually do anything that makes me happy, at least not often.”

Hannibal pursed his lips, clearly unimpressed by Will’s presumptions but working with what he was given either way. “You feel he need to prove yourself to your,” Hannibal paused, voice dryly disinterested as he continued. “ _Friend_.”

“Well, she’s not all wrong.” Will grumbled, shifting in his seat. He was in a mood that day, something Hannibal had picked up on quickly. He’d been thinking far too much, all to focused on one thing to the point it’d put him in a touchy mood that made him an undesirable conversational partner. It was rather irritating, if Hannibal had to describe it, but yet he couldn’t bring himself to be impatient. Will was a creature best dissected slowly. He’d wait.

“What is an activity that makes you happy, Will.” Hannibal asked instead, persistent yet calm as he leans forward in his seat, fingers locked together and eyes firm on Will, his interest not at all feigned.

Will sucked his bottom lip in, brows furrowing as he worried it, fingertips tapping against the leather armrest. He had his basic few like most people did- a good night’s rest, good liquor, playing fetch with his dogs, _fucking_. Will blushed ever so slightly as the last thought jumped onto his list, and although it was true and he was very accepting of that, it wasn’t something he was directly interested in mentioning to Hannibal Lecter.

“Halloween.” The words blurt from Will’s lips suddenly enough that it makes him frown. It’s true, at the most part, and he’d probably been thinking it subconsciously which led to his blurt out. Either way, Hannibal’s brows rose and Will scrambled to explain himself.

“I really enjoy Halloween. In New Orleans it was my favorite time of year, but since moving to Wolf Trap… you can probably understand why that didn’t last long.” Will said blandly, rough hands rubbing down his denim clad thighs as he huffed a breath he didn’t know he was holding, shoulders slumping awkwardly when he did.

Hannibal was silent, watching him curiously, and Will could swear he saw the thoughts shifting behind the near maroon gaze of his psychiatrist before the man closed off again, leaning back in his seat and watching Will impassively. “Will, I understand that our time is not quite up, but I would like to ask you something not as your psychiatrist, but as your acquaintance.”

Will blinked in surprise. _Acquaintance_ , Hannibal had described himself. Will almost wanted to repeat the word aloud, taste the letters on his own tongue even though he knew they would not be the same. He knew his silence would be taken as either insult or dejection, so Will put his strange desire aside to respond properly. “Of course.”

Hannibal sighed, his psychiatrist persona almost visibly melting away. Will very rarely noticed the different in Hannibal between his personal time and his work, but it was very evident now how strict his professionalism was. Will almost felt sympathetic.

“I’m afraid Halloween was not something _partaken_ in during my lifetime, and I find myself at a loss when children come to this area and upon my doorstep.” Hannibal began to say almost dejectedly before Will snorted loudly. The man looked up, eyebrows raised as Will held up a hand in apology as he grinned unabashed.

“I’m sorry,” He said with an awkward laugh. “The idea of you being frightened by trick-or-treaters is incredibly funny. You’re one of those people that turn off all their lights and hide upstairs, aren’t you?”

Hannibal had the nerve to look irritated, sitting straighter as he focused his somewhat narrowed gaze on Will. “I am not _frightened_ by trick-or-treaters.” He said reproachfully. The fact he didn’t even touch the last part of Will’s statement said exactly how right Will was.

“Face it, Doctor Lecter.” Will said dryly. “You’re dejected by a situation you’re not used to and the fact you can’t be in control or at least be dominant over it makes you uncomfortable. It’s perfectly normal.”

Hannibal wanted to snap that he wasn’t having a _normal_ reaction, that he was anything but normal, but then again, it seems that Will was bordering very dangerously on the reality of it. Hannibal did not like facing situations he could not control nor understand, and Halloween was such a distinctly American tradition that it was alien to him despite his years in this country.

“What I was attempting to say,” Hannibal continued in bland impassiveness. “Is that perhaps you would take care in joining me.”

Despite what Hannibal said, all Will heard was a subconscious cry for help. Hannibal had probably been at crossroads for years, feeling like he was disrespecting the neighborhood families but yet having no idea how to participate properly. Will could’ve teased him, but in a strange way he could understand. It was about time he stopped buying Halloween candy just for himself anyways.

Will bit into his bottom lip, a falsely contemplating expression on his face for no more reason than to make Hannibal fidget, and when he felt he’d done enough, he nodded. “I’m not doing anything, I’m sure I could lend a hand.”

Hannibal smiled small and swift, but Will knew the man was much more relieved than he let on as they fell back from their ‘acquaintance’ stance and once more to patient and doctor. The rest of the appointment went swiftly, conversation melting back into the frayed fragments of near poetic murders and the ever fracturing psyche of Will Graham.

 

 

 

October 31st rolled around quicker and windier then Will expected, bringing with it the scent of liquorish and sugary sweetness as students with ducked heads carried pockets of discounted candies and sweets. Will even had seen a young woman in the front row of his classroom split open a bag of suckers to offer around, leaving the same sticky scent in his classroom. Oddly, he wasn’t bothered by it, in too good of a mood to be let down by the wafting and potent smell of American cherry.

After a brief conversation with Hannibal during his rather brief lunch break, Will had been set for a time to arrive and already had bought several boxes of candies the night before which now sat in the trunk of his car. He’d had a feeling Hannibal wasn’t the type for Walmart visits, so he’d taken it upon himself.

Beverly Katz, of course, had been by his classroom for the second time that day, prancing in whilst he’d been having his conversation with the psychiatrist, evidentially hearing some of his muffled discussion as she passed by and her curiosity getting the best of her.

He’d double taken when she’d walked in, a her neutral expression of a serious gaze and small smile pulled her lips despite the fact poking out from her sheet of dark hair was a set of black kitten ears attached to a fuzzy headband. Upon seeing this, he furrowed his brows and confusedly parted his lips, watching as she reached behind her to lift a black tail into his line of vision, just long enough to peak out from under her lab jacket.

When he’d hung up with Hannibal, she’d smirked, long caramel colored fingers tucked into her jean pockets. She’d worn a black knit sweater today with simple fitted jeans and her brown knee-high boots, acting as if there was no abnormalities with her appearance that day. In fact Will seriously doubted anyone had confronted her because of it.

“Are you sure you should be wearing that?” Will asks, turning to tuck a stack of papers into his bag, hearing the faint tap of her short heels on the dully packed carpet behind him.

“Katz – Cats. What’s not to love?” She said, shuffling up to sit on the edge of Will’s desk beside him, head tilted and eyes twinkling. “Besides, I glued dollar signs all over Jimmy’s jacket and stapled a Zeller’s bag onto the back of Brian’s jacket. If I can be a pun, I’m not doing it alone.”

Will snorted shooting a quick glance up at her. “I presume you’re not here to do the same to me, are you?”

“No,” She said with a sigh, hoping off his desk and circling around it to sit in the creaky canvas desk chair opposite him, clearly signing that this would not be a short conversation. “If I wanted to, I’d have gorilla glued a layer of graham crackers over you desktop.”

Will gave her a vaguely horrified expression and she laughed, clearly getting the response she wanted out of him. Rolling her gaze back onto him lazily, Beverly docked a heel against the edge of his desk to gently rock herself back and forth in the chair, small screeches and squeaks penetrating the air as she did.

“So,” She announced dryly, and Will sighed, looking up at her, waiting for the question. She grinned at his begrudging preparation and continued. “What’s with the convo with Lecter, you two getting together for Halloween?”

She wiggled her eyebrows, and she clearly knew the answer, but still Will shot her a flustered look. “He’s not used to Halloween. I’m giving him a hand. Don’t get excited.”

“I’m sure you will be giving him a hand at this rate.” She said with a mixture of crude humor and falsity seriousness that only Beverly could muster up. Will scoffed, trying to ignore the way all his blood vessels seemed to migrate into his face and neck as he did.

“You know exactly what I mean.” He grumbled, pointedly avoiding her gaze. Beverly hummed in response, leaning forward to open one of Will’s side drawers and snag a lollipop, holding it up pointedly between two fingers to imply she knew all of Will’s little secrets despite what he tells her.

“Yes, I do.” She said pointedly, gazing up at him with raised brows as he tore the plastic off and put the purple candy into her mouth. Will had always favored the purple lollies. “It means that your psychiatrist whose been living in America for more than ten years hasn’t adapted to one _major_ part of our ridiculous culture and needs his attractive, young, smart patient and _friend_ to come over late at night, possibly for dinner first, and spend many hours at his home with him, explaining how to ‘properly’ do a holiday.”

Will hadn’t thought it was possible to blush any deeper. “Well when you put it that way.”

“Yeah, when you put it that way.” Beverly said with another laugh, unhooking her heel and letting the chair fall forward from its reclined position with a creak of gears and a comforting _thunk_. “Face it Will, I think you might be going on the coolest or weirdest date ever.”

“I don’t think he meant it to be a date either.” Will said with a nervous laugh, although he didn’t deny the ‘date’ part. Even he’d admit it sure as hell sounded like he might’ve been looped into something a little more than platonic on accident.

“Well, maybe he didn’t and this is just an entire accident you can brush off. Enjoy yourself.” She said with a shrug and a neutral expression, that was, until she saw Will’s darting gaze and once again pinking cheeks. Her dark gaze narrowing, a creeping grin curled across her face as she leaned forward in a pressing interest. “That is, unless you don’t _want_ to brush it off as nothing.”

“Drop it Bev.” Will huffed, dejectedly straightening a stack of paper and shuffling around his desk and her seat while he did. She was gaping, a wide, open smile stretched across her pretty face while her eyes shone like stars.

“Yeah, okay,” She said with a sarcastic laugh, her tone clearly implying that this was not a finished conversation. Drawing her legs up onto the seat with her, she pressed her weight into it, letting it lean back once more with a creak. “Why _did_ you decide to do this anyways?”

Will paused in his shuffling to huff out a breath and cast her an irritated and singularly pointed expression. “Because of you.”

She laughed aloud at that, eyebrows raised. The hand holding her purple lollie waved through the air while the other curled around her legs. “Alright, this I’ve gotta hear.”

Will huffed around, breaking his gaze away and continuing to collect and shift things around his desk, pulling marked essays from his bag and setting them up for the next class. “You said I didn’t have fun, I mentioned it to Hannibal, he asked what I liked, I may have mentioned I enjoy Halloween, and he invited me over.”

Beverly’s brows raised comically high as she pulled the candy from her mouth with a popping sound so she could reply. “So that’s it? Nice summary Graham, saving the juicy bits for you and your pal?”

She gave his hand an incredibly implying pointed look and he made an indigenous noise, wanting desperately to be offended but not finding it in himself to be. He wasn’t impressed, he doubted anyone would be, but he knew she just wanted to rile some answers from him. Instead, he went for the clearly opposite response, “I should report you for sexual harassment.”

“Please,” She said sarcastically, unfolding somewhat gracelessly from her spot on his hair, stretching her limbs as she tucked it half-hazardly back into place. “If you ever planned on doing that, it would’ve been long before now.”

“You’re lucky I’m so tolerating then.” He said with a snort as she once again tucked her hands into her pockets and made a slow pace around him.

“Ah yes,” She said with a grin so wide her eyes crinkled at the sides. “The infamous Will Graham, the human bouncy-ball, always somehow jumps back into place.”

“Don’t you have work to be doing?” He grumbled sarcastically over his shoulder. “Or does the FBI pay you to irritate your coworkers all day.”

“If so, they should give me a pay-raise.” She said with a cheeky smile and this time it was Will who snorted, nearly a borderline laugh.

“Have fun with your next class.” She called brightly over her shoulder as she trotted towards the door. “And Will?”

He looked up, straightening and turning to, for the first time in their conversation, or even in a long while, hold her gaze. “Have fun on your _not-date_.”

 

 

 

Hannibal’s neighborhood, unsurprisingly, was all sinister stone homes with trim front yards and shiny new cars. Will tried not to stare often as he rolled down the street, admiring the varying shades. Nothing was bright here, warmer colors, warmer atmosphere, but in comparison to Hannibal’s home, they seemed almost neon.

With bricks such a dark red he’d nearly mistaken them as black, this … _manor,_ was all sharp edges and intimidating lines. Even the grass seemed sever, a deep pine-y green peppered with crisp golden leaves from nearby trees.

Will’s eyes darted around, taking in far too much detail then he could account, his gaze sliding almost like butter over every nick and cranny before he’d even realized that his feet had carried him up the path in the center of the yard and up to the deep pinewood door.

He knocked, knuckles hard against the solid surface, enough to even sting. He could’ve wrung the bell, but he felt it was less casual, and seeing as after that conversation with Beverly the other day, well, you could say causality was all he was aiming for.

Footsteps, followed by the unhinging of a chain lock and a flipping click of a regular. Will wants to be surprised by the Doctor’s assumed paranoia, but seeing as his own doors are the pure manifestation of obsessive locking, he can’t judge.

The door swings open and there is Hannibal, a small, greeting smile set in place paired with glittering saffron colored eyes. Will subconsciously takes a moment to inhale, to study the face in front of his own and all of its significant bone structure and etchings.

Hannibal is beautiful, undeniably so. Much like his home, he is sever and bearing, with strong lines and edges, not so much of an American touch to it, but wholly European and the epitome of foreign delicacy. It shows in his walk, his movements, nothing but near feline grace and tasteful actions that are clearly intricately well-thought even in a moment’s notice.

Will realizes he’s been staring, a heat rising in his face under Hannibal’s calming scrutiny as they stand in the doorway, the dimming light of outside leaking through to the seeping darkness of Hannibal’s home. _Metaphoric_. Will’s voice stutters to a start unintelligibly, “I didn’t know if you had stuff, so I brought some. It’s in the trunk. And Hello.”

Hannibal only smiled wider, watching silently as Will looked down at his boots awkwardly, pointing over his shoulder in the direction of his car using his thumb.

“Yes, you had mentioned on the phone if I recall. Would you like some assistance?”

“Well, I- no I couldn’t ask,” Will stumbled awkwardly, trying not to even glance up at Hannibal’s amused eyes, the glitter that danced in his warm irises. “Yeah,” He said finally after blubbering himself out, hand dropping lamely back to his side. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

“You might, though,” Will interrupted as Hannibal moved to walk past him, the other man halting immediately and turning such profoundly intent attention onto him that Will was startled for a second. “You might want to take you jacket off. It could get inky or something like that.”

“Nonsense.” Hannibal said with the same impassive smile as before. “I believe the wind is picking up and I doubt my blazer will be harmed in any way.”

Hannibal continued past Will, who had to mentally remind himself to move and not ponder over the difference between a blazer and jacket. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he walked down the slightly sloped front yard after the other man, taking a small open second to discreetly look him over - Suited up, per usual. Will made a mental note to ask if Hannibal actually owned anything _other_ than the bespoke yet migraine-inducing three pieces.

Hannibal beat him to the car, Will having to slip by him and pop the trunk. The rusting old caravan stood out awkward and beige against the rest of the surroundings. Although that was quickly forgotten as he leaned back, pushing the smooth door upwards and exposing the monstrosity of colorful boxes and bags in the back of his vehicle.

One hand landing on his hip, the other brushed up through his hair as he glanced sideways over at Hannibal, who was staring with what appeared to be well-masked abject horror at the sight. Resisting a snort, Will commented dryly, “I didn’t know how much to bring so I got a bit of… well, let’s just say a _lot._ ”

“This has to be far too much.” Hannibal murmured, brows ruffling in the middle as his expression became one of deep debating and another alien emotion. This time, Will _did_ snort, and Hannibal looked over at him.

“Well,” Will murmured, reaching forward to grab one of the three, healthily _large_ boxes, the purple bright enough to make his eyes water if he stared too long. “I hope this is a high-traffic area.”

“You are fortunate then.” Hannibal confirmed, managing to snare a grocery bag as well as one of the two smaller boxes, following Will back up inside and to the kitchen. This process lasted about ten minutes until Will’s trunk was finally shut and everything was placed obtusely in Hannibal’s immaculate kitchen.

“Well, I must say, this was all very unnecessary.” Hannibal had murmured upon their final re-entry, going to the sink to wash his hands free of all the imaginary bacteria and germs he must picture on the box. Will wanted to scoff - the man hadn’t seen anything yet.

“You asked, and I provided. Besides,” Will said, smacking one of the boxes down onto the counter and taking his old, chipped multitool from his pocket to cut open the tape. “It’ll win you some brownie points with the neighbors. Which you probably need by this point.”

“And why would you say that?” Hannibal asked eyebrows raised and voice curious as he took off his jacket and began rolling up his sleeves, the cords and veins of his immaculate forearms rippling and shifting comfortably as he did. It was an enticing sight, one Will would have ignore as of now but would certainly find his eyes drawn to again later.

“Because I doubt anyone who doesn’t do Halloween is about to go to the summer block party.” Will said with a snort as he pried open the top flaps of the box, peering down to the brightly colored wrappings of the chocolates inside.

Hannibal, as if he’d read Will’s mind, placed a stack of relatively large stainless steel bowls atop the counter for Will to start putting the sweets in as he continued his explanation. “they probably think you see yourself higher than them. It’s hard not to miss the flashy suits and car, you know.”

“I live in a flashy neighborhood.” Hannibal added pointedly, and Will gave him an agreeing expression. That may be the case, but Will knew better than most that in some areas, community appearance meant practically everything. Vanilla families all with honor roll students and above middle-class lifestyles, the daughter who could take as many university classes are her pouty heart desired and a son who would play soccer and rape a girl at a party without consequences- Someone who did not participate would be an anomaly, and there was no doubt that it would’ve brought some attention to Hannibal by now, even if he’s not simply written off as ‘strange’ or ‘self-centered’ for his lack of involvement.

It was almost strange for a social butterfly like Hannibal, but yet somehow to Will it almost made sense.

And speaking of social butterfly, the crisp suit – as nice as it was – that Hannibal wore most definitely had to go. It was a matte crimson that made his eyes shine bright like saffron, paired with an autumn orange button-down and a golden tie – pocket square set.

“Do you own jeans by any chance?” Will asked suddenly and without any real regard for how ridiculous that question could be, making Hannibal look up from the Crispy Crunch we was examining with precarious fingers.

Hannibal’s mouth dipped into a frown, clearly not enjoying either the dryness or blunt edge of Will’s tone. Most likely both. “May I inquire why you are asking?”

“Because I highly doubt you’re going to want to be walking back and forth in a suit like that, besides, any number of situations can happen.” Will added the last part as a small push, thinking back to the one time he’d seen a child vomit on someone’s doorstep. He wanted to grin at the idea of that happening to the good doctor.

“I see.” Hannibal said slowly, lips pressed together, unimpressed but not denying. “I shall see, pardon me.”

“Knock yourself out,” Will said with a grin, flashing his teeth monetarily before hiding them once more, watching as Hannibal left the room swiftly. He always wanted to sigh as he left. It felt awkward, tense as hell and obviously stiff. They both needed to lighten up it they wanted to survive tonight.

Will only opened two boxes, taking about half from each before going for the lollipop bag and tossing some of those in as well. Setting the bowl aside, he took the remainder boxes and slid them to the side whilst he dug through the plastic grocery bag.

He’d gotten some candy corn, something he was admittedly fond of, as well as warheads. But it wasn’t that he was after, fingers snagging onto fabric covered wire and tugging the thing out. A witch’s hat, wire-rimmed and black with spider’s pattern, a little something he’d seen walking into the store and couldn’t resist. With it had been some kitten ears, much like Beverly’s, except a light brown.

He grinned sheepishly to himself, knowing exactly how childish the excitement bubbling in himself was as he lifted the point of the hat up and place it upon his wild curls.

When Will looked up from eating a kit-kat it was as he heard the sound of Hannibal’s footsteps approaching, only to have the man enter seconds later, that action alone enough to give Will a serious case of heartburn.

“Jeans. You actually own jeans.” Will said unintelligibly as Hannibal strolled up to a cabinet, passing a gaze at Will over his shoulder as he did as if nothing was abnormal about his appearance.

“That is what you were implying, was it not? From one creature of comfort to another?” Hannibal asked, eyebrows raised in sharp arches as he took two mugs from behind the opened wooden case. “Coffee?”

“Yeah, sure.” Will said awkwardly, and before he could help it, “I’m sorry if I seem rude, I just never figured you the type.”

“No,” Hannibal agreed with a laugh, letting the cabinet door shut with a soft thud before moving towards an incredibly complex looking coffee maker. “I present from Alana, I’m afraid.”

“She has always been one for prompting a step from personal comfort zones.” Will replied, deciding to not ask how exactly Alana know Hannibal’s pant size. Then again she _had_ bought Will a very nice navy blue waffle knit sweater last year for the holidays that had fit like a glove.

“So do you know what time your neighborhood gets busy?” Will asked, propping his forearms onto the island counter and pressing his weight into them. His gaze wandered over the broad expanse of Hannibal’s shoulders, the same autumn colored button-down from his suit still covering them. The jeans, he’d admit, were very nice – soft looking, nothing like Will’s rough warehouse kind, made with loose denim and faded slightly over the knees and back pockets. They looked new enough that he knew they weren’t worn often, a treat for Will’s eyes and memory.

“Will,” Hannibal’s voice penetrated Will’s thoughts and he leaned back, blinking awkwardly as Hannibal looked past his shoulder at the other man. “did you hear me?”

“Depends on what you said.” Will said, grinning awkwardly, ignoring the blush rising his cheeks as Hannibal’s warm gaze glided up to the witch’s hat on his head and back down to his face. “I simply stated that children tend to begin knocking – if they do at all – around four.”

Will nodded. “Seems accurate, younger kids usually come first. I got you cat ears, by the way.” He held up the brown ears teasingly, watching Hannibal’s blank expression for any tics. Will wouldn’t deny he was needling the man, just waiting for him to pop.

There was brief silence, the only noise coming from the coffee machine as it purred awkwardly. Finally, with deft fingers, Hannibal reached over and hooked the ears before tucking them gently atop his neat hair. Will’s face felt ready to split from how wide his grin was.

They spent the next half hour in the kitchen talking about nothing in particular, jumping from topic to topic as they came, splurging on incredibly fantastic coffee. It was nearly four forty when the first round of knocking came, Hannibal’s and Will’s heads rising simultaneously to make brief eye contact before Will swept the candy bowl up with a grin and waved his hand for Hannibal to follow.

Two small children, dressed as a Tinkerbell and a snowcone awaited, their small miss-matched voices loudly chanting out “trick-or-treat” while their parents watched from the end of the path with affectionate expressions. Like moths to flame, they had follows the glowing windows and lights up the trap to receive their sweets.

Will smiled at them, tossing a few treats into each bag and wishing them a good night as they giggled and rush back down the path. Stepping back, he shut the door to see Hannibal watching him with a curious expression.

“What?” Will asked, his smile not ceasing.

“Nothing at all.” Hannibal had murmured, brushing by Will on the way back to the kitchen, shoulder rubbing along Will’s as he did.

Within the next twenty minutes, it became a competition. Will wasn’t sure when the second bowl had cropped up, or when they’d began all but running back and forth to the door, but competitiveness was in the air as who could give out the most amount before the end of the night. It went unmentioned, but definitely not unnoticed.

“Kids usually stop around ten, at least that’s when they did when I was younger.” Will said on the edge of his stool, watching as Hannibal set a tumbler of whiskey on the brown marble in front of him. They’d upgraded from coffee over time and Will could hardly complain.

“The times have changed, I’m afraid. We can never be sure.” Hannibal said with a sigh, leaning up against the counter with tired eyes and his own whiskey. Unlike Will’s usual malt, it was rich and smooth, holding a woody oak taste.

Will snorted, shaking his head. “You just want to win.”

Hannibal’s eyebrows rose, an expression all too innocent curling over his eloquent features as he blinked, and Will couldn’t help but note that the kitten ears atop his head did nothing but make it worse. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t.” Will replied with a sarcastic grin and eyeroll. He found, oddly, that he was loosened up, that relaxation and regular happiness and enjoyment were rolling through him like the blood in his veins. It was a nice feeling, one that he doubted would last, but a nice feeling none the less.

The doorbell rings, ominous and near spooky sounding as both men look up simultaneously. Eye contact is made, a finger twitches, and they’re both up, somehow managing to rush out the kitchen door without actually running, Will’s sudden burst of laughing ringing loudly through the house as they both made it to the door at the same time, Will grabbing the handle triumphantly as Hannibal’s hand locked around his wrist, whipping open the door while forcefully blocking the opening from Hannibal who made a noise of aggressive protest behind him, looking downward expecting children only to see – boots.

Will frowned instantly, behind him, Hannibal stopped trying to push past him. Beverly Katz and Jack Crawford stood at the door. The silence that suddenly fell was painfully awkward and could be cut from the air and given out amongst the Coffee Crisps. They must’ve made quite a sight, both of them flushed in the face and Will breathing hard – Hannibal wasn’t even winded -  and not to mention the current kitten ears and witch’s hat placed upon their heads. Add in the fact it looked like they had literally been wrestling and Hannibal’s arm was somehow around his waist, Will was pretty sure this wasn’t the way he’d ever wanted to be seen.

There was a click, and Will turned his gaze to Beverly, who’d taken out her cellphone with a grin and neatly gotten a picture while the two men in the doorway stared awkwardly.

Will straightened out immediately, as did Hannibal, opening the door wide and swallowing awkwardly. “Jack, what are you doing here?”

“There was an update on the Ripper case and you weren’t answering your phone. Mrs. Katz informed me that you were at Doctor Lecter’s home and insisted upon coming along for reasons unknown.” Jack added emphasis to the ‘unknown’ bit, as if he could suddenly understand _very_ clearly why prankster Beverly Katz would want to come along.

A blush rose in Will’s face and he was saved from speaking by Doctor Lecter, who made himself known and curtly and professionally as usual, the man would just been ready to physically pick Will up and move him away from the door was long gone. “May I inquire what the new lead is?”

“We have a suspect, nothing too intense yet but we wanted Will to look into this first.” Jack lifted his bag up properly, unclipping it and pulling a brown case folder from its black leather depths and handing it over as he dryly commented,  “I can see you two are busy, so I believe it’s best I leave it in your very capable hands.”

Will gave a nervous laugh while Beverly wiggled her brows at him over Jack’s shoulder, clearing intending to taunt him about the picture that would likely end up on Facebook if not printed and tacked to every FBI corkboard she could find.

“I’ll leave you two to it then, call me if your figure anything out Will.” Jack says before nodding to them both, murmuring Hannibal’s professional name respectively before turning and making way down the pathway, Beverly strutting along beside him, not pausing as she turns, and calls over her shoulder. “Enjoy your Halloween not-date, Graham!”

As she turns back around, Jack looks over with an expression Will cannot discern, most likely furrowed brows and pressed lips, something Beverly would grin and shrug at.

Will and Hannibal take their respective steps back inside, shutting the door with a quaky click. Silence follows that action and Will can’t make eye contact to save his life, staring at the file in his hands as his face turns a bright pink.

“That was,” Hannibal pauses, clearly looking for a word that would somehow define the situation that just occurred. “Unexpected.”

Will snorts, but says nothing otherwise. Thankfully, Hannibal still speaks. “Do you need to leave? I know how uncomfortable it is for you to work when others are around.”

Hannibal’s eyes are on him as he opens him mouth, fully intending to say ‘yes’ before something seems to pull him back from that choice. Thinking back onto the happiness and the relaxing edge to the night, even the jokes Hannibal and he had made or their not-so-subtle contest to see who can empty their bowl fairly first, Will didn’t want it to end with a case, with another possible monster. He wanted to end it with Hannibal and a stomach full of sweets and wine and a mouth full or laughter and lightness, not bile and Advil.

“No.” Will says, shaking his head. “I can do it later. It won’t kill anyone.” _Wrong choice in words, Graham._ Hannibal nodded with no comments made, and Will took this as a sign to head back to the kitchen, letting the other man follow in his footsteps.  

He wastes no time hooking his whiskey glass from earlier and draining it swiftly, setting the file down on the counter where he won’t forget it.

“My apologies for their interruption.” He murmurs as he opens a bag of candy corn, taking a few into his palm and tossing them back. His tongue expects Advil but happily receives the mellocream as he chews it, turning to face Hannibal, who leaned on the counter across from him to allow space as Will deals with his sudden conflicting emotions.

He truly was a stunning man, the low orange light and darkness outside combined, casting his deep set eyes into shadows that also hid under sharp cheekbones, some of his bangs having come loose and brushing over his tanned forehead. Will swallowed, the action nearly audible and plain to the eye as his throat worked awkwardly.

“It is not your fault, you couldn’t have known any better than I could’ve.” Hannibal responds, ever the gentlemen, ever so ready to account for the mistakes of others when he never seems to make one himself.

“What Beverly said,” Will began, voice awkward and nearly shy. Hannibal cut him loose quickly.

“I am sure she was simply prying at you, think nothing of it. I don’t expect anything from you tonight.”

“But you do expect something of me.” Will said, eyes flicking up to make contact just as Hannibal seemed to realize he’d been cornered by his own words. Foolish mistake. Will wonders if it’s a mistake at all.

“Nothing that you’re not willing give.” Is the soft response, and Will’s heart skips a beat in his chest as he sets the candy corn aside, wipes his hands on his jeans, and before even thinking properly and adeptly about the outcome of any actions he could possibly commit in this second, he’s stepped forward and is kissing Hannibal Lecter.

It’s odd, he’d admit. The angle wasn’t great and it was very sudden, but it was a kiss none the less, his hands on Hannibal’s cheeks and what little comfort room between them diminishing by the second as Hannibal leaned into him, his own hands coming up to gently rest on either side of Will’s neck, fingers dipping into back ridge.

Hannibal figured the angle out of course, their noses no longer pressed awkwardly as Hannibal kisses him back, firm but not demanding, all in pace and comforting warmth, and Will can taste the whiskey from earlier, and Hannibal can undoubtedly taste the mellocream from mere seconds ago, the flavor still tangible in Will’s mouth as he open up, allowing Hannibal an entrance as their kiss deepens, bodies swaying oddly in tune to a song that seems to only play within them.

Will is first to pull back, realizing with a blush that he went onto his toes to be at proper level with Hannibal, who huffs a little breath. “That was also unexpected. But appreciated.”

Will grins sheepishly, leaning his head back slightly as Hannibal’s fingers press into the dip where spine meets skull. “It’s a shame it’s getting so late, I might have to leave soon after all to get home in time for bed.”

There’s something hidden in Will’s voice, but revealed in his grin and slightly narrowed eyes. Hannibal arches a brow, a curious smile of his own playing his handsome features. Will plays to the man’s weakness, the desire to see the outcome is positively fiery. “Are you looking for an invitation?”

“An observation. I doubt I’ll have to go as far as to ask.” Will said, eyes bright and mischievous in his sudden confidence and Hannibal has no doubt that Will is correct, practically putty in the younger man’s hands.

Leaning forward, Hannibal tilts Will’s head up so as to better run his lips over the scruffy jawline, stopping just sort of the crest of his ear to murmur. “Is a guest bedroom in order?”

“Someone as egoistic as you surely has a large enough bed for the two of us Hannibal.” Will all but purrs as Hannibal lays a gentle kiss upon the skin where his jaw ends, not making a comment upon Will’s ego shot, mostly because it was admittedly true.

All conversation ends there, hand’s and mouths back on one-another, and eventually they slip upstairs, Hannibal still in the ridiculous cat ears and Will’s witch’s hat creating odd shadows upon the walls as they move. The bedroom door clicks leaving the two men with only moonlight, and below on the streets, children of varying ages still wander in costumes, some eyeing up the strange Dr. Lecter’s home as they passed it, dully noting the suddenly dark windows and continuing on.

After the weekend, Will would live to regret ever knowing Beverly Katz, somehow most of the agents Will worked with having seen the ridiculous picture of him and Dr. Lecter, and despite that, their visits became more than just that, intimate and damn near loving, and Will would still talk to Beverly as she pried details from him like nails from loose floorboards..

Will had no doubts that this Halloween would be one to remember.

 

 

 

 

 

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**Author's Note:**

> Y'know what, pretty sure if you're reading this you're also a trashcan for halloween because anyone who is so comitted to an OTP to read a halloween fic of them gay pining for one another is some serious hannigram trash. Congrats friend, we're in this together.
> 
> Comments appreciated, sorry for any mistakes, and have a great halloween!


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